Fly With Me
by La Carta Esferica
Summary: He never thought it would be like that, no really, people believe being a flight attendant is easy, so, why not?


The thing about Isabelle is - Isabelle flirts with _everyone_. From the pilots to hot passengers of both genders to the barista at the airport coffee shop (Jordan just rolls his eyes at her now and hands her her usual latte). It's just what she does, as easily as breathing, and the staff has decided she's harmless (although the almost obscene way she rolls 'Captain Bane' off her tongue makes Magnus keep threatening to report her for sexual harassment), and the passengers are usually too charmed to be bothered by it. Because Isabelle loves life and loves people and she's basically the most enthusiastic flight attendant ever.

She was also pretty intimidating at first. 'Intimidating' meaning Simon was kind of scared to death the first time he worked with her. Because Isabelle is a bit _much_ most of the time and she never shuts up or stops demanding attention and Simon's not good at being noticed so much or at dealing with the provocative things that usually come out of her mouth.

Simon's life has been pretty quiet up until now (and it still is, really - this job's not as glamorous as people like to think, no matter what Isabelle believes; it's not really about the job anyway, but his particular outlook on life - Isabelle's life was probably fabulous even when she was still flipping burgers). He went to university, got a pretty useless degree, and had no clue what to do after. He'd pin his decision on two things, really: boredom, and Maureen. Well, breaking up with her anyway. Maybe she'd said it was because the relationship wasn't going anyway but he knows better, knows it's because _he_ wasn't going anywhere, had been stuck in the same rut for years and probably would be for years to come. So, he'd thought about, about what he wanted, what he hadn't had the guts or means to do before. It'd just popped into his head: _travel_. It was pretty much the most impulsive thing he'd ever done in his life, applying for the job.

And yeah, it's hectic and crazy and takes up most of his life, but he genuinely enjoys it. He's always been good at customer relations (though not as _overwhelming_ as Isabelle is), doesn't mind living out of suitcases, being in and out of airports and hotels all over Europe, likes seeing the sights whenever he gets a chance. It's good anyway, having a purpose, not being aimless like he's felt for a long time.

He's hardly ever home, usually comes in early in the morning after days away and leaves at night, and that's good for Maia who likes being alone and shutting herself up in their flat, sleeping all day and working on a new piece all night, getting high and forgetting the outside world. Sometimes he feels like they live in two different time zones (although Simon feels like he lives in all of them at once), like they take turns living in the flat as opposed to sharing it. They talk more through notes (_used all the milk! get more!_) and texts than in person these days.

Their plane breaks down in Paris, and he sends her a quick message: _won't be home until tomorrow night. feed the cat._

He gets her reply a second later: _didn't even remember you were coming home._

_well i have a real job unlike some people._ It's his usual retort to Maia's comments about his insane hours.

And _Maia's_ usual response would be: _at least i have a life._ (She doesn't this time though, says: _just make sure you're back before my opening this weekend._)

And it's true, he hasn't had a lot of contact with his friends since he got the job, hasn't had a lot of relationships, hasn't had _any_ at all, really.

But that has less to do with the job itself and everything to do with one particular coworker.

* * *

If it was one of Magnus' flights, they'd all go down to the hotel bar and have as many drinks as they could risk before they had to leave, but Isabelle suggests they go exploring, and he'd argue but it would sound weak and suspicious.

They end up walking by the river as it's getting dark, and it's weird, that Isabelle didn't suggest a club or somewhere with lots of people and activity, that Simon's going along with it too, because maybe he doesn't feel comfortable in clubs but at least there'd be a lot of distractions - from this, from _Isabelle_, Isabelle watching him, noticing everything about him like she always does, and being so, so untypically quiet.

Isabelle stops to look at the water when the sun's gone down completely, and Simon can't help gazing across at her, noting how soft her features look in the moonlight, how her dark eyes shine so bright, almost mimicking the sky, but how they still have a hint of that twinkle.

Her smile isn't cheeky or suggestive, just kind of content, as she looks at him, says, "City of love, huh."

"Didn't know you were so cheesy," Simon says before he can stop himself.

"I'm not, but I mean, if anywhere was to be, this comes pretty close. I remember the first time I came here..." she trails off, but it's not for dramatic effect. She's actually nostalgic, which is pretty weird for her.

"I imagine it was a whirlwind romance," Simon says sarcastically.

"No, I came with friends. After college. I think that's when I decided that one place wasn't enough, wasn't big enough."

"To contain you?"

"Maybe." she smiles kind of mischievously now, looking more like the Isabelle he knows. But then she gets serious again, says, "I thought if it was big enough, if the world felt big enough, everything else wouldn't matter."

Simon's always known there was something deeper to Isabelle, something to be unearthed and deciphered, and it's always excited him, that unknown part. He's always wanted to know what it was, but at the same time, he wanted the mystery to remain. It's probably the tug-of-war between these two desires that fueled Simon's attraction to her.

He didn't expect this though, that it was such a painful thing. And maybe it wasn't about one specific thing, one specific heartbreak, but just the slow, heavy press of life until you either gave way under it or you escaped.

Isabelle decided on the latter. And so did Simon.

Things always catch up to you eventually though.

* * *

When he gets home, Maia's actually awake and watching tally and the flat's looking cleaner than he'd left it.

"You cleaned," he says, dropping his suitcase.

"Figured since I'm here all the time and have nothing to _do_, I should make myself useful," she says and it's pretty scathing. And Maia _would_ actually clean the entire flat to get back at him for his earlier comment. She's ambitious in her vindictiveness.

Simon climbs over her legs that are stubbornly perched on the coffee table and throws himself onto the couch next to her.

He grabs a handful of crisps out of the packet Maia's holding.

He feels her gaze on him for a second, and her smirk, before she turns back to old _Friends_ reruns.

* * *

He finds a note stuck to the microwave when he wakes up.

_you should invite some of your coworkers to the opening if you want._

He's not sure what he should take from it. Maia hasn't asked much about his job during the last couple months, only made snide comments about how one day he'd fly away and forget all about their flat and her and the cat. She doesn't know anything about _Isabelle _ except that she's crazy and handsy and she'd probably get them both fired someday.

He thinks about asking Isabelle to come, and how it would sound. They've obviously spent a lot of time together, a fair bit of it alone in foreign countries, but it's more because they were thrown together and not out of choice. It's scarier this way, him taking the initiative like this, because he doesn't really know how Izzy feels about him. If she considers him just a colleague, or a friend, and she'll find the whole thing too presumptuous and awkward. Maybe she won't though. But even then, it's not that simple, because he doesn't want to potentially jeopardize his working relationship with her either.

He decides he'll ask her, and maybe Magnus too, and it won't be a big deal at all.

* * *

He has a stroke of genius when he stops for coffee before they take off the next day.

"Hey, Jordan?"

"Yeah, mate."

"So my flatmate has an opening at a gallery on Saturday. I think she's convinced I have no friends at work, so how about you come and pretend to be my friend? I'll totally pay you for your services."

Jordan laughs his distinctive, hearty laugh and says, "Yeah, sure, man. She's an artist? Sounds cool."

"Okay." Simon writes down the address on a napkin and passes it over the counter to him.

"Is Isabelle going to be there?" Niall asks, and he sounds strangely curious.

"Yeah, probably. I mean, if she decides to come," Simon says casually.

Jordan just nods distractedly for a second, then smiles and hands him his coffee with his usual, "Have a safe flight, Simon."

* * *

He pokes his head into the cockpit to ask Magnus and he gets an instant 'yes.' He doesn't ask about Isabelle though, so he's grateful, but then Isabelle herself is yanking him back into the cabin and asking him in hushed tones, "What was that about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you and Magnus having a secret party without me?" she looks mock-offended.

"Yep, and there'll be cake and strippers and everything you love."

"You wound me, Simon Lewis," she says, grabbing his shirt.

"So are you in?" Simon says, trying not to bite his lip or look too nervous.

"Yeah, totally, I've always wanted to meet the infamous Maia."

"I knew you were eavesdropping."

"Sue me," she says, shrugging then grinning widely, showing off all her teeth.

* * *

It's really not what he'd planned. Because Magnus' chatting up a hot blonde in a red dress in the corner, totally ignoring the art _they were here to see_, and Jordan's monopolizing all of Maia's attention, listening to her talk about her technique (which he most definitely has no interest in whatsoever) and hanging on to every word (and _oh_, that's unexpected, but in a pretty good way)...and Isabelle, well, Izzy's drinking a lot and staring at him and he's starting to flush under the fluorescent lights in the gallery and it's getting way too hot suddenly -

"We should get some - uh, some air."

"Okay," she says, a cheerful drunk apparently. Which is altogether unsurprising.

They end up on the steps outside the gallery, Isabelle still clutching a champagne flute and smiling up at the sky pretty giddily.

Simon has to stop himself from smiling too.

"Maia is nice," Isabelle says after being quiet for all of five seconds. "I mean, she seemed nice. Nice-looking. Not like - well, like _that_ too. But nice."

"God, you have had a lot to drink if you think Maia is _nice_."

"Her paintings are amazing too. I mean, just amazing. Like the colour and the lighting and the lines and -"

"What'd you study in school?" Simon asks and it's probably a bad time, the worst time, but she doesn't open up much. That time in Paris was a rarity.

She sounds almost sober as he begins speaking. "I bummed around for a while after I did my A-levels. Then I decided to go to drama school. Didn't last long though."

"You dropped out?"

"Yeah, after one semester," she says, grimacing.

And then she did _this_. Probably uprooted her life, came to Manchester. She probably has an unused flat somewhere too.

Isabelle doesn't talk about family and friends much, just about cool places he's been, things he's seen, though Simon knows she has two brothers.

Simon's becoming just like that.

Everything's temporary. The people you meet and the places you see. Hotels and airports and rooms that look the same with constantly changing views, everything rushing past you, or you rushing past it.

* * *

Isabelle ends up on his bed. Maia had gone off to Jordan's place so they're alone.

"I like your place," she says, voice muffled into a cushion, even though she hasn't seen any of it, had just stumbled across the threshold in the dark.

Simon starts walking to his sofa, but he hears one more thing. "Was this a date?"

He doesn't answer.

* * *

He finds Iz sitting at his kitchen table the next morning, wearing one of his old shirts that shows way too much.

"I found this in the fridge," she says, holding up a post-it that says _buy milk!_

"Oh, sorry, I totally forgot."

"It's okay," she says, smiling at him. It's different from all her usual smile. It's softer, relaxed somehow. Like she's been working something out in her head and it's finally starting to make sense.

They take coffee without milk and Simon can see Isabelle's hangover starting to disappear (although she seems to be good at hangovers too; it figures).

The brightness in her eyes returns ridiculously quickly.

"Thank God we don't have to work today."

"Yeah," Simon says quietly.

"So, what are we doing instead?"

Isabelle's enthusiasm is, as always, pretty infectious.

* * *

They walk around town and Isabelle drags him into all her favourite shops, and it's different, but good different, to be in a familiar place doing familiar things with her. It kind of feels like a whole new adventure altogether, in this city they both call home but isn't the only one, not anymore.

She's trying on clothes when she says, "So you didn't answer."

"What?"

"Last night," and she sounds impatient through the door. "You didn't say whether it was a date or not."

And oh, right. That.

"It - It was - I don't know. It was whatever you want it to be." Which is a total cop-out and he accepts that.

"Okay..." is all she says before she comes out wearing a red dress that, okay, makes Simon's knees go weak.

"How do I look?"

"Lovely."

"Thanks."

"So, what do you want it to be?" he asks, forcing himself to be brave, to look at her, to face it head-on.

"Haven't decided yet." shee winks and then disappears back into the changing room.

* * *

And that's it, really. She pulls him into a half-hug before she leaves him, messes up his hair, tells him he'll see him tomorrow and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

When he gets home, Maia's unpacking groceries.

"You didn't get the milk." she doesn't sound angry though (and with Maia it's less clear, but Simonknows her too well by now). She's just stating a fact.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"Were you with Isabelle?"

"Yeah. What happened with you and Jordan?"

"Nothing really," she says, finally looking at him. "We went back to his place. He played me a couple songs on his guitar. He's in a band, did you know? We're getting together at a bar they're playing at on Wednesday."

"Cool," Simon says weakly. He feels really guilty for a moment. Guilty about Maia and not knowing what's up with her most of the time. Guilty he hasn't called back his sister after she left him a message a week ago. Guilty about Isabelle and how stubborn she's been, how unwilling she's been to show her feelings, to be honest with him. Isabelle's not the only one with attachment issues.

"You should come if you want. Bring Iz," she says, emphasising the last part.

"I'm sorry," Simon says, abruptly, louder this time.

"What, about the milk?" Maiaasks, looking amused. "You already said that."

"No, I mean, for everything."

"Oh, I..." she looks genuinely surprised.

"I know I've been cutting people out. You especially. I just - It's hard, all of it. And I'm trying to make it all work."

"I know that," Maia says honestly. "I know you are."

"Okay," Simon says.

They just look at each for a second, and Simon knows that everything's alright between them. It will be.

* * *

Simon texts Isabelle about the gig on Wednesday and she just replies with: _but what do i wear?_

He grins at the phone for a little too long.

* * *

They have a couple hours in Madrid and they go to the Cibeles.

Simon snaps pictures of both of them in front of the fountain and sends them to Maia whose jealousy she derives a great amount of pleasure from usually.

"Glad I could do this with you," Isabelle says when he shows him the message (_wish you were here :)_, the smiley face specifically chosen to elicit rage). And Simon knows she doesn't just mean this, today, but everything, everything they've seen and done together.

Simon just looks at her for a second before he says, simply, "Me too." And he really means it.

She smiles.

* * *

The bar's pretty packed and Isabelle's in his element, and Simon just keeps looking at her. Every so often Iz will stop talking and give all his attention to Simon and Simon will just nod and smile back at her, like they have a secret.

When Jordan's band comes on, the place explodes into noise and then gets really quiet as the first song starts.

Maia's looking pretty entranced and staring at the stage, at Jordan looking effortlessly confident, strumming his guitar and singing, clear and strong into the mic.

"Wow, he's good," Magnus says, nodding appreciatively.

Isabelle seems to come out of a trance of her own, looks at Simon as she says, "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

The set ends and they all congratulate Jordan, Maia more enthusiastically than the rest. The two of them choose to hang out some more, while Magnus disappears off with some girl, and Isabelle declares she is going home with Simon.

So she does.

They don't say much. When they're outside his building, it happens. He knows it's the moment, it's the time, time to acknowledge that he's decided, and Isabelle probably has too, what he wants from this, what he wants it to be.

Isabelle's looking at him more openly than she ever has, asking for something, asking for him to do the same. Asking, _Is this okay?_

Simon just squeezes her hand for a moment before pulling back, saying, "Goodnight."

Her expression falls, but she nods, quickly, and then Simon leaves her there, on the hotel, before going back to his place.

* * *

It's two days before Simon sees her again.

She's quiet again, but it's different, it's the uncomfortable kind, and Simon hates it. He hates everything, hates that he can't just let this happen, he can't just let himself be happy and let it be simple.

"Can I - Can I talk to you?" he asks before he talks himself out of it.

"Yeah, sure," Iz says, looking tired and resigned and everything she should never, ever be.

They walk back down the aisle to the galley.

"I don't -" Simon starts at once. "I don't want you like this."

"Like what?"

"Like - not you. Like your light's gone out." He probably sounds a bit hysterical.

"You - you're the one who rejected me." she looks actually confused.

"I - God, Iz, I didn't mean to. I didn't. It's just - I don't want you to get bored of me. And I don't want to care so much when you do."

Isabelle just stares at him before letting out a laugh.

"Are you - Do you know how mental you sound right now?"

"Maybe."

"You are the craziest person I have ever met, Simon Lewis," but she's looking so fond of him, and her eyes are bright again, and Simon wants to see that all the time, wants to never be away from her.

Isabelle's hands settle on his neck gently, and Simon nods at her, telling her it's all okay, he wants it, wants this, wants everything.

"I'm never getting bored of you," Isabelle promises before she brings their lips together. She kisses just like Simon imagined, eager and unrestrained and playful but so sweet. Simon makes a tiny noise of protest when she pulls away.

"I can't wait to sleep with you in every city in Europe," she says and then sighs exaggeratedly.

"You're an idiot," Simon says, but leans in to kiss her again.


End file.
